Better Than You
by Chaina
Summary: Just one drunken sabacc game in a sim room gone out of hand. Jaina, Jag, Wes, Hobbie


**Title:** Better Than You  
**Fandom:** Star Wars (milliways bar, to be exact)  
**Characters:** Jaina Solo, Jagged Fel, Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian  
**Timeline: **Sometime in the current present day at a bar at the end of the universe.  
**Rating: **serious PG-13 (for some really heavy innuendo) 

**Disclaimer:** Jaina Solo, Jagged Fel, Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian, and the rest of the SW galaxy do not belong to me. They belong to Lucas, Del Rey, respected authors, etc.

**Summary:** Just one drunken sabacc game gone out of hand.

* * *

The cards were strewed across the small table that had been set up in the simulator room hours earlier. The betting pot was half full with tiny brightly colored Earth candies while the sabacc pot remained as empty as it was in the beginning of the game. Four small piles of the candies, each of varying size, were scattered across the table, as well as a couple of dirty shot glasses, and a couple of random toy soldiers.

One bottle of Whyren's lay empty on the floor in a sticky puddle of its previous contents discarded and neglected for at least the past thirty minutes in the heat of the card game. The other bottle – not that they had i needed /i another bottle until the drinking war broke out – was clutched in Wes Janson's hand as he attempted to pour two more shots.

Jaina giggled as some of the amber liquid missed her glass entirely, spilling on the table instead. With a loud thump, Wes slammed the bottle back on the table, glaring at her. His face was poised in a mock-serious expression, a smirk teasing its way forward.

He let out a long suffering sigh, as if he had just failed in understanding some deep question on the mystery of the life, the Force, and everything. "'sides," he began, "how can someone _your_ size drink 'is much?"

"'s in the genes, Janson. Solo, remember?" Jaina slurred, flashing him a lopsided grin. She reached for the newly filled glass and lifted it to Wes in a mock salute. "Well? 'ink you can top us?"

The other pilot nodded, grinning brightly. "You even 'ave any experience in topping?"

A rosy pink color flushed her cheeks and she started clicking in the back of her throat before she turned to look in the direction of her boyfriend, lounging on one of the sim seats rather than the folding chairs that had been brought up for the sabacc game. He blinked as Wes's statement slowly sunk into his alcohol hazed brain. A sly grin crossed Jag's face as he studied Jaina intently, winking at her. She giggled again and returned the wink.

Wes watched the exchange with great interest, the grin on his face widening. "'at doesn' count as proof, Solo."

She reluctantly broke eye contact with Jag to look up at Wes. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Not gonna tell _you_."

"Sure ya are!"

Dismissing the conversation for a moment, he held out his glass, clinked it against Jaina's, and downed the contents in a matter of seconds. Jaina followed suit, chuckling as the liquid burned its way down her throat.

"C'mon, can't be 'at bad," he continued, smiling annoyingly at her. He waved a hand around, gesturing to Hobbie, who was hiding next to a simulator, sitting on the floor with his back against it, and clutching a mug of caf in his hands as if it were a lifeline. "Mean, look at Hobs 'ere. Man screams like a girl on Adumar and he ain't 'mbaressed."

At the mention of his name, Hobbie looked up, and then quickly face palmed, retreating his head back to the safety of his knees. "Don't mention that, Wes."

Jaina laughed and reached for the bottle and pouring two more glasses, passing one to Janson. "Jag never screams. Let alone like a girl."

Wes accepted the glass and quirked an eyebrow in her direction before swallowing the contents. "'at true? Must not be doin' some'ing right, Solo."

Jaina licked her lips, savoring the remnants of her last shot of whisky. She chuckled, smiling almost seductively at the pilot before fixing her gaze back on Chiss commander. "Trus' us, we do _every'ing_ right. Defini'ly know a few 'vasive maneuvers to get 'is blood boiling. Right, lover boy?"

Jag nodded, shifting uncomfortably in the simulator seat. He swallowed hard, then loosened the top two buttons of his uniform and stretched an arm down to pick up his glass of Whyren's. Taking a long drink, he echoed his prior nod, green eyes, a shade darker than normal, raking over the woman. The corners of her lips turned upward a little more at his examination, and she blew him a kiss that caused a genuine, if not small, smile to appear on the grim pilot's face.

Peeking up from his seat again, Hobbie frowned, blinking rapidly as he watched Jaina and Jag with disgust. "Wes," he whined, dragging his boyfriend's name out, "tell the four year olds to stop eye-kriffing. 's _scaring_ me."

"Actually, I'm seven," Jag answered in a matter-of-fact manner, not breaking his staring competition with Jaina to address the other pilot. He chuckled, the alcohol loosening his tongue and weakening his inhibitions. "Jaina's the four year old. Rather sexy one, too."

Hobbie blanched. "Wessss… Please tell 'em to stop?"

Wes scoffed at his wingmate and turned his silly grin back to the younger pilots. "Still not proving any'ing, Solo." He blinked, blue eyes shining with amusement. "An' Fel. Anyway, we all know 'm the only person who does every'ing right."

Jaina laughed in obvious disbelief and looked away from Jag down to the table. She picked up a sabacc card and started twirling it in the air with the Force. "You don't have 'is to 'elp you, Janson."

Wes stared at the card, transfixed for a few seconds. He then shook his head. "Doesn' count."

"Course it does." She let the card float down on its own accord, reaching for the now half empty Whyren's Reserve bottle to pour two more shots. She took a sip and beamed proudly. "Sithspit, just face facts: we win."

"Nah you don't!" Wes nodded eagerly to prove his point, and then blinked, examining the card with renewed interest. Curiously, he peered up at the Jedi. "Hey, what _can_ you do with 'at?"

The smile on Jag's face widened a bit as he leaned back in the simulator, propping his feet up on the controls and folding his hands behind his neck, propping his head against them. An almost lustful look flickered on his face and he grinned smugly at Wes. "She can do lots. _Lots_. And it always feels so _good_."

Jaina straightened in her seat, knocking over the empty sabacc pot and a few cards in the process. Once again, she beamed arrogantly at the man sitting next to her, crossing her arms over her chest and then tilting back in her chair. "See? We're _good _at dis kriffing business. _Real_ good, like Jaggy says."

Before Wes had a chance to snicker at the name, Hobbie groaned and buried his head in his hands again. His knees moved closer to his chest and he frowned, a very dour and disgusted expression in his features. "Wes, please? Please tell them to stop?"

"Aww, c'mon, Hobs," Wes chided, grinning again at his best friend, "this conversation just got interesting."

"But…"

"No buts!" He turned back to Jaina, nodding sagely and making a random gesture with his hand. "So you got 'at Force 'ing to help ya in da matter. Don't mean no'ing 'bout Fel 'ere though. Like Hobbie, again. Hobbie's really good at making 'ese 'lil kisses all ov-"

"Wes!" Wide-eyed and nervous, the dour pilot was now looking up again in fear, shaking his head rapidly. "No, stop there. This," he paused, reaching for the caf mug again to hold tightly in his hands. "This is _worse_i than them."

"Betcha he got no'ing on Jag," Jaina concluded after a moment's consideration, ignoring Hobbie's plea completely. She glanced between Hobbie and Jag for a moment, and nodded. "Yep, no'ing. Jag _is_ Corellian, af'er all. Bein' a stiff Chiss is just fun to break."

"Go on, Solo," Wes said, waving a hand to continue. "Wanna hear 'is."

She grinned wickedly, and leaned in closer to Wes as she tipped her chair forward, as if in a conspiratorial whisper. "Firs', he does this 'ing with his hands and just, touches so right and… An' 'en there's 'at thing with his tongue, in our mouth, an…"

Jaina trailed off, looking at Jag again and letting her eyes flutter shut at the memory. A contented smile filled her face and she nodded. "Yep, no'ing."

"Think I'm going to agree with the Goddess here," Jag chimed in, unfastening another button as he blinked and looked around the room, as if searching for something in particular.

"Hah! Hobbie's _totally_ da better kisser. Cause he got hair to curl your fingers in an' his lips are just soft an' he's just _better_. An' tastes good, too." Wes stuck his tongue out at Fel and Solo, then grinned brightly and looked towards Klivian. "Right, Hobs?"

He mumbled something into his hands, not looking up at Wes. Hobbie's head shook as he continued to mutter. "Yes. No. Don't _wanna_ discuss this, Wes."

"Prove it, Janson." Jaina's voice cut across the room before he had a chance to pick an argument with Wes. Her lips were pressed into a thin, serious line, and her arms were crossed over her chest again. "If you 'ink he's so good, we wanna see proof."

"Fine." Wes reached for his shot glass and lifted it to his mouth to take a sip, not realizing it was empty. "But you gotta return the favor. Well, Solo? Ladies first 'n all."

Jaina grumbled and sent an icy glare in his direction before standing abruptly from her chair, allowing it to clatter on to the floor behind her. She took a step towards Jag and the flight simulator before stopping dead in her tracks and whirling around to face Wes. She stuck out a finger accusatorily at him, opening her mouth to say something.

He blinked, and smiled innocently. "Not a scaredy ban'a, are we? Though' you said Fel was good at 'is stuff."

She glared at him once more, letting out a string of imaginative curses. Wes made sure to duck the datapad that went flying across the room and towards his head. He laughed again, picking it up off the floor and swaying it back and forth in the air. "Missed!"

The exclamation went ignored, much to Wes' dislike. He pouted and stuck his tongue out at her back as she continued to make her way to Jag.

She stopped half a meter in front of him, and Wes watched with interest as she studied him for a few seconds. The Chiss commander returned the scrutiny, a clear state of anticipation mixed in with his normal state of grimness. A hint of apprehension was present as well.

Jaina knelt down in front of him, her brandy brown eyes seeking permission in his green ones. He shifted in the simulator seat to better face her and nodded once. Jaina placed a hand on each cheek, cupping his face gently. Then, she pulled his head down and craned hers up to give him a small kiss. A pause, and then she lifted her head up again, capturing his lips with hers and kissing him passionately.

Wes whooped loudly and then laughed, taking a swig of the Corellian whisky in celebration. "See? 'at's more like it, Solo!"

Hobbie sighed in revulsion and rolled his eyes, covering his head so he didn't have to watch as Jag reached down to pull her up on his lap, returning and deepening the kiss further. She spread out on top of him, tangling her legs in his own and their bodies molded in to each other as the two sought a more comfortable position on the simulator seat. Her fingers dug passed the short hairs of his scalp as his tangled themselves in her long brown hair, pressing their mouths as close to each other as possible.

Jag's hands trailed from her hair and down her back, reaching the hem of her tunic. With a strong tug, Jag pulled the shirt out from where it was tucked neatly in her pants and slipped his hands underneath the fabric. They broke the kiss for oxygen, and Jaina tilted her head, giving his lips access to her neck. Neither seemed to remember that they weren't alone in the room

A low moan escaped that escaped Jaina's lips caused Hobbie to shudder. He wrapped his arms around his body, and stole a peek at them from the corner of his line of vision. As quickly as he looked up, his eyes widened a very feminine sounding scream sounded from within him and Hobbie jumped to his feet and ran over to Wes, tugging on the other man's sleeve.

"Wes, I thought you were going to make them stop."

Janson shook his head, laughing loudly. He tore his eyes away from the couple to glance at Klivian. "Where'd 'e fun in 'at be?"

"They're _four_," Hobbie protested, pointing. "They're four and she's Han's daughter and he's Soontir's son and four year olds shouldn't be doing _that_!"

Wes blinked and cocked his head, as if considering the idea. He chuckled and stuck his tongue out at Hobbie. "Nah. Let da kids 'ave their fun."

"Wes…"

"Hobbie…" he retorted, eyes turned back to Jaina and Jag. He frowned, almost thoughtfully, and scratched his head. "'ink we should stop 'em?"

"Just think we should get outta here." Hobbie pulled at Wes' shirt again, his eyes begging for the pilot to cooperate for once in his life. To extenuate his point, he took a step towards the door, refusing to look back at the simulators at all. "Please? Now?"

"Fine," Wes finally replied, shoulders sagging with disappointment. Then, a thought occurred to him, and he turned around to grin mischievously at Hobbie. "Af'er all, gotta get a holocam. 'is 'as ta be recorded! Teach 'er some'ing about 'inking she could beat me! Da darling one! Hah!"

Hobbie closed his eyes, placing his palm to his forehead and shaking his head back and forth sadly. It was going to be a long night.

And an even longer morning.

-fin-


End file.
